At the Pub
by Insane Troll Logic
Summary: Doyle, Oz and Cordy go to down to the pub to celebrate Angel's getting the Ring of Amara. Missing scene from In the Dark


First off before this fic even begins, I would like to renounce any credit from it. Cordy, Doyle, and Oz are not mine. The television show Angel is not mine. This fic is not mine. I'm just posting it for my friend Erin who felt that this scene should have been shown on screen. Her computer won't let her on so I offered to put it up for her. The only thing I am responsible for is getting her hooked on Buffy and Angel. This by no means means it's OK not to review. I'll be passing any feedback onto her.  
  
**Title-** At the Pub  
  
**Author**- Erin  
  
**Ships-** None.

**Characters-** Doyle, Cordelia, Oz  
  
**Spoilers-** not really.  
  
**Timeframe-** missing scene from _In the Dark_  
  
**Summary**- Doyle, Oz and Cordy go to down to the pub to celebrate Angel's getting the Ring of Amara.  
  
**Rating-** PG

* * *

_"I don't think Oz appreciated being called my little Bam-bam all night."  
-Cordelia "In the Dark"  
_  
_**At the Pub**_  
  
Jack Baker of Baker's Bar in LA grumpily surveyed his customer's from under his thick greasy eyebrows. He scowled. Business was crap, as usual. There were two guys at the bar and a couple of rough looking punks parked in one of the scrubbed corner booths. They looked shifty, but this was LA. As long as they didn't start anything he had to put up with them.  
  
One of the guys at the bar squinted at the bright TC and smoked while the other burbled happily from a forest of shot glasses. Jack shrugged. "As long as they can pay." He mumbled and shuffled off to scowl at any dirt that had collected on his floor.  
  
Just as the bartender disappeared under the bar, a small but boisterous group entered.  
  
"Nice place." Oz drawled as he took in the spotless bar and booths.  
  
The group in the corner glared as he glanced their way and leaned further over their drinks. Cordelia rolled her eyes. "My god, what a cheap place, I can't believe we let you drive." She glared at Doyle as he smiled happily.  
  
"Hey, it may not be pretty but the stuff here's great! You know," He straightened up slightly, "you shouldn't judge a book by its cover and all."  
  
"Whatever." Cordelia rolled her eyes as Shot Glass Man hiccupped loudly and contentedly. "Just remind me never to go anywhere with you again." She slid into a booth across from Oz who, as usual, looked totally relaxed and bemused.  
  
Doyle's face fell. "Right. I'll just get us some drinks then." He shuffled miserably over to the bar.  
  
Oz and Cordelia sat looking at each other for a long moment in an uncomfortable silence. "So," Cordelia piped up, "how's our favorite fashion victim back in Sunnyhell?"  
  
"Buffy? She's cool." Oz replied. "What about you?"  
  
Cordelia tossed her hair. "What do you think? Everything's great, the acting's going great and Angel's great. Did I mention how great my life is?"  
  
"I think so." Oz nodded slightly.  
  
Just then Doyle returned with three tall glasses of beer. "Already paid for and free refills." He smiled and attempted to sit on the bench next to Cordelia.  
  
"Get off you creepy little Irishman!" Cordelia yelled, smacking his arm. "God."  
  
Doyle shrugged and pulled over a chair.  
  
"So," Oz lifted his glass. "to Angel."  
  
"Yeah our brooding vampire boss and his new ring of Ampata or whatever." Cordelia took a sip.  
  
Doyle swigged half of his glass and smiled slightly.  
  
"So how's the whole werewolf thing going for you?" Cordelia asked suddenly.  
  
Doyle choked on his beer. "Werewolf! You mean the whole ...grr... thing." He looked Oz up and down and stared at his now empty glass. "I need more beer." He hurriedly got up and raced over to the bar.  
  
"Gosh. I don't know what his problem is. He gets so touchy about demons and stuff." Cordelia rested her chin on her palm and gazed coolly at Oz who shrugged.  
  
"It's the same." Oz replied. "The werewolf thing I mean."  
  
"Still hairy? That sucks." Cordelia frowned as Doyle came back this time with not only his newly refilled mug, but also with two shot glasses. He sat back down.  
  
"I guess nothing's changed back in evil town." Cordelia picked up her glass.  
  
For the next hour Cordelia and Oz talked about LA, Buffy's new boyfriend Patrick or something and basically catching up on how everyone was dealing while Doyle repeatedly visited the bar to get everyone's glasses (especially his own) refilled.  
  
Smoking Man paid his tab and started outside as his game drew to a close and Shot Glass Man was happily snoring on the floor next to his stool.  
  
Oz was listening to Cordelia talk about Doyle's visions and Doyle himself was leaning on the table cradling his half-full pint. "Right, so like he can see when people need help and Angel helps them and I cash the checks." Cordelia smiled. "When they pay of course."  
  
"Cool." Oz said. "Visions. They must be helpful.  
  
"Maybe." Doyle slurred suddenly. "But what Cordelia forgot to mention is the great whoppin' headaches I get along wid da pictures." He frowned and pointed at a spot about two inches to the left of Oz's ear. "I'm atoning."  
  
Cordelia stared at him. "Right. You're such a martyr." She snorted. "Sorry, he's drunk."  
  
"No I'm not!" Doyle mumbled to the table. "Isn't that right my little bam- bam!" He suddenly reached out and threw his arm across Oz's shoulders and smiled inanely.  
  
Cordelia grabbed Doyle by the shirt and pulled him back into his chair. "Anyway that's Angel Investigations, here have our card in case you happen to see someone who needs help." Cordelia smiled sweetly and passed Oz a small white card with Angel Investigations stamped across the top.  
  
Oz squinted at the small picture for a second then shrugged and slipped it into his pocket. "Thanks. By the way, nice hair." Oz nodded at her head casually.  
  
"My hair!" Cordelia quickly reached up and patted it, "What's wrong? Is it... oh God! Is it ok? I..."  
  
"Woah, I was just complimenting you." Oz said soothingly.  
  
"Says hair-dye werewolf boy! Oh I gotta go!" Cordelia grabbed her purse and made a beeline for the bathroom, all the while cradling her head and making soft moaning noises.  
  
"I think you look pretty, Cordy." Doyle mumbled at Cordelia's now empty chair. He looked up at Oz suddenly. "Hey, you know her from Sunnydale, right? Could ya clue a guy in? I asked Angel but he's not really much with the talking. You seem kinda monosly... monosylabut." Doyle paused, confused and then grinned. "You're my little bam-bam."  
  
Oz raised an eyebrow. "So, you're Irish."  
  
Doyle's head jerked up and then he began to cry.

* * *

Cordelia primped her hair one final time and snapped her purse shut with a distinct click. "There." She said aloud to the mirror.  
  
She tossed her newly primped locks over her shoulder and opened the door.

* * *

"And then," Doyle sobbed, "he tells the priest about his wee sister and Oliver and Eugene and about how his good fer nothin' da jus' left him widout any money or food and how he had hit his mum and..."  
  
Cordelia walked up to the table staring at Doyle with a mixture of disgust and amusement on her face. "How long has he been like this?"  
  
"Couple minutes."  
  
Doyle clumsily turned around in his chair staring at the blurry Cordelia and sniffling. "Angela's Ashes 's a beautiful story."  
  
Cordelia cocked an eyebrow and stared. "Ok, you're going home."  
  
Doyle blinked. "But it's only night, me and bam-bam were only just getting talking."  
  
Cordelia grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. "You'll thank me in the morning, let's go." She turned to Oz. "Sorry about that, he's annoying."  
  
"No, it's cool. Just how'd he get 'my little bam-bam?'"  
  
Cordelia shook her head. "Like I know what goes on in his twisted little mind."  
  
She and Oz both helped Doyle through the door and back onto the streets of LA.  
  
Jack watched them leave from behind his counter. He hurried over to their vacant table with a clean rag and a bin for their glasses. "What a weird group." He thought aloud. "Talking about werewolves and visions." He shook his head and quietly began wiping the table. "I need to get out of LA." 


End file.
